EBOOK PUNCH ***
Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 101.
August 15, 1891.
A TERRIBLE TALE.
[Illustration]
Alas! it had of course to be!
For weeks I had not left my room,
When one fell day there came on me
An awful doom.
A burly rough, who drank and swore,
Without a word--I could not shout--
Attacked me brutally, and tore
My nails right out.
Then, dragging me out to the air--
No well-conducted conscience pricked him--
He mercilessly beat me there,
His helpless victim.
With cruel zest he beat me well,
He beat me till in parts I grew--
I shudder as the tale I tell--
All black and blue.
But what on earth he was about,
I could not guess, do what I would;
But when at length he cleaned me out
I understood.
Yet do not shed a tear, because
You've heard my story told in metre,
For I'm a Carpet, and he was
A Carpet-Beater.
* * * * *
LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.
_Thursday, June 12_.--Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post,
Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics,
cricket club _fetes_, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule,
get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the
Bankruptcy Court.
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